A Night to Remember
by Monny287
Summary: Hermione's gone, and Harry's a mess. Late one night, memories, coffee, and photo albums abound. Please read and reveiw. Much better than the summary.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual.

A/N: This shall be yet another rather depressing fic from yours truly. I was listening to another sad song….and had the inspiration for writing this story (do you think it's time to change my music choice?) Based on the song "A Night to Remember" by Joe Diffie. Lyrics at the bottom, hopefully.

"Harry? Haaarrry!" the snapping of fingers in his face awoke Harry from his reverie. He blinked and glanced around. He noticed that he was still at his desk, with the same pictures on the wall, and to top it all off, it was raining.

"Harry, mate, have you been sleeping okay?" Neville was standing in front of him, looking slightly worried. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sleeping? Yeah, okay," he said dismissively. In all reality, he hadn't slept in weeks, months even….not since that night.

_Flashback:_

_"Hermione, stay here," Harry instructed, pointing his finger towards the ground._

_"Harry, I'm not a dog," she replied, rolling her eyes. A slight hissing made it's way towards them, and they both ducked as an arrow of red light barely missed their heads._

_"Listen, just stay here, okay?" he pleaded with her, pushing her down. "I don't want to lose you." She looked determined for a moment, but wavered under his gaze. _

_"Fine, but I'm not doing it for my own safety," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm doing it because you asked me too, okay?"_

_"Good enough for me," he smiled and emerged from behind the rock where they were hiding. "I'll be back, I promise." He gave her a hug._

_"Harry, be careful," she said, tears filling her eyes._

_"I will," _

If only Harry knew that would be the last conversation he'd have with her. He leaned back in his office chair and glanced at the picture of the three of them as he rested his head in his hands. He hadn't even had a chance to tell her…..and now it was too late…..He could remember every detail of that night, as if it had happened yesterday, and tears started to roll down his cheeks as the image came up in his mind.

_"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry cautiously entered Mad Eye Moody's office. It was decorated much like the imposter-Moody's classroom in Hogwarts, with odd assortments of tools and gadgets thrown haphazardly onto shelves, and half-empty cups of coffee growing mold on the desk. _

_"Yes, yes, Potter," Moody said, his eye swiveling to anything but Harry. "Sit down, please." He cleared the rolls of parchment and maps off the chair in front of his desk, and Harry sat down. _

_"Potter, this may be a bit hard for you absorb," Moody clenched his hands. "But during the battle…"_

_"I know how many we lost, Moody," Harry interrupted. "A high price to pay, but to take out that maniac, I guess at least they didn't die in vain."_

_"I don't think you know how high of a price, boy," he muttered. Any other person wouldn't have heard him, but Harry heard every word._

_"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at the Order member in confusion. "Listen, I just want to see my friends…let them know I'm okay…that I haven't died."_

_"Just stay seated, boy!" Moody barked, and Harry jumped. "When I said you don't know how high a price…I meant it. After the battle…we had a count on everyone done…bodies recovered…but there was one person we couldn't find."_

_"Who?" Harry asked, a pool of dread draining into the pit of his stomach. Moody's magical eye flickered to the picture of him and Hermione, taken over the summer before Ron got to Grimmauld Place. It was the first time Harry had ever felt completely happy. The eye swiveled back and rested on Harry. Harry's blood ran cold. _

_"No…" he whispered, standing up so suddenly it knocked the chair over. "No!"_

_"I'm sorry Potter. We don't know where she is. She is, at the present, assumed dead," Moody stood up calmly and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry violently shoved Moody's hand off and dashed out the door. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him down the hall. He barely saw Ron and Neville as they made their way to meet him._

_"Harry, mate…congratula—" was all that Ron was able to tell him as he streaked past him. It felt as though the walls were caving in. Suddenly, Hogwarts was unfamiliar to him. He took wrong turn on the way to the Great Hall and found himself near the Hufflepuff Common Room. He shook his head and dashed in the opposite direction. He finally made it to the Great Hall. He glanced at it with loathing and instead dashed out the door and out into the cold air. Usually, the air in that month was frigid to anyone with a coat on, and Harry was dressed in only a t-shirt. _

_He ran to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and then his energy ran out. He dropped to his knees and rested his head in his lap. Tears poured down, soaking his blood-stained t-shirt. The words "presumed dead" rang in his ears, and he cried even harder; he couldn't remember the last time he'd cried like this. He felt a strong hand clap him on the shoulder._

_"Harry, I jus' heard," the booming voice of Hagrid rang out above him. "I'm so sorry. I—I know 'ow you felt 'bout her." Harry laughed slightly._

_"You and the rest of Hogwarts. The only one who didn't know was her," more tears streamed down to the ground. "I was planning to tell her after the battle—if I didn't die, that is."_

_"I know, Harry, I know," Hagrid tried to be reassuring. Harry jerked violently out of his grasp._

_"No! You don't know!" he shouted, tears of sorrow turning to tears of anger. "Why? Why did he have to take everything important to me? Was it not enough that he had to take my parents? He had to take Hermione too?" Tears seemed to be consuming him as he picked things off the ground and threw them as hard as he could into the forest. He broke down again, and squatted on the ground, holding his head in his hand. He cried for awhile. He stood up a few moments later, and pulled something out of his back pocket. He held it gently in the palm of his hand for Hagrid to see. It was a small grey box, much like one a ring would come in. He opened it. In it was a small ring, with a simple band and a simple diamond flanked by two small sapphires. Hagrid looked at him sympathetically and dabbed at his eyes with a hankercheif._

_"I was going to ask her," Harry said quietly. "I was going to ask her if she said she loved me back. I had a strong feeling she would, so I bought this." He smiled slightly, and sniffed. "And now it's all over. IT'S ALL OVER!" he cast the small box with the ring inside away from him into the Forbidden Forest and walked off, with Hagrid in his wake. Harry didn't notice Hagrid pick up the box and place it in his pocket, in case Harry should ever want it again. He shook his head and walked back to his cabin. Now was not the time for a friendly chat. Harry needed to be alone._

_"Harry, mate, I'm so sorry," Ron said when he saw Harry sitting in a chair by the fireplace. "I just heard. I know what she meant to you." Harry looked up at him, and his gaze, Ron could see was as if he looked right through him. The blood-shot look may have been from the Firewhiskey, but the rest of it was all Harry. _

_"Do you?" he asked simply, as if it were the easiest question in the world. "Do you really?"_

_"Yes, all of Hogwqrts does,"_

_"Have you ever been in love, Ron?" _

_"Yes," Ron, Harry assumed, was thinking of Luna, his steady girlfriend._

_"Completely, hopelessly in love?"_

_"Yes,"_

_"Have you ever been so in love with someone that you would do anything for them?"_

_"Yes. Why are you—"_

_"Would you die for her, Ron?"_

_"If the time arose, I suppose—"_

_"What if the time had arisen today?"_

_"What?"_

_"What if you'd had to die today? For the one you love?"_

_"I suppose I would…"_

_"What if you had no time to think about it?"_

_"Harry, I think you've had to much Firewhiskey,"_

_"Because that's how I felt for her, Ron. If I had been given the chance, Hermione would be sitting here crying to you, and not me,"_

_"Harry—"_

_"It's true!"_

_"Harry, she's only assumed dead. That doesn't mean—"_

_"Yes it does. They told me that to make me feel better. I heard Moody say the same thing to an Order member's wife, when I knew for a fact the man was dead. Face it Ron, she's gone, and it's all my fault…"_

_"Harry—"_

_"Just leave, Ron, please," Harry saw Ron make his way up to the boy's dormitories, and that was the last thing he remembered of that night._

For a year, he'd been an alcoholic, spending his days in bars and his nights at home slugging down Firewhiskey and Butterbeer, just to numb the pain. After that, he realized what a mess he'd gotten himself into, and tried to get his life to resemble something of a normal life, though he knew that without Hermione, it never would be.

Harry glanced at the calendar. Three years. Three years two weeks ago. He wiped the tears off his face and packed up to go home. He knew that that missing Order member case would still be here in the morning, so he put it in his desk drawer and walked out. As usual, he was the only one there. He usually was. People around the office had at first joked that he never slept, and then seriously inquired as to the last time he'd had a nap.

He Flooed to the apartment, and threw his briefcase on the couch. He kicked off his shoes as Crookshanks, inherited from that night, began to wrap himself around his legs.

"Okay, hold your horses. You're as Ron sometimes," he mumbled and opened up a can of cat food. Dumping it into a cat bowl, he flopped himself on the couch, flipping around the channels on his T.V., but not finding anything worth watching. Turning it off in frustration, he glanced around the apartment. His eyes eventually rested on his bookshelf, the bottom of which was dedicated to photo albums, courtesy of Colin Creevy and Mrs. Weasley. He sighed. Tonight was as good a night as any. It wasn't like he was getting any sleep anyway.

Carefully, he took out the first album, Colin's first scrapbook. It was filled to the brim with pictures of the three of them, from their meals in the Great Hall to Harry's Quidditch games. He looked so innocent back then.

"_Harry, there are more important things…"_

"_Harry? Harry are you alright?" Hermione was running toward them down the path ..._

_Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. Harry didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione running toward him, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!" ..._

_"Oh, my --" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. _He couldn't count how many times that had happened. He thought he lost count during fifth year. Harry took out another album…this one from fourth and fifth year. He smiled as he ran his hand gently over the picture of Hermione, who smiled and waved back at him.

_"Been in the -"_

"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."

_His jaw dropped. It was Hermione._

_"I vant to know," he said, glowering, "vot there is between you and Hermy-ownninny."_

_"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek._

_"They were bound to clear you," said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, "there was no case against you, none at all."_

_Not for the first time, a voice very much like Hermione's whispered in his ear: reckless._

He smiled as he remembered. He didn't do this often; sadness was just not something he did anymore. There was too much depression going on in his life, he didn't need any more. He knew he'd regret this in the morning, not being able to go to work for the pain and suffering these sessions caused. But at the moment, he didn't care. He allowed himself for a moment to lose himself in the memories and become fourteen again, fifteen again, sixteen again. Back when Hermione was alive and he didn't have to live in this awful nightmare. Tears ran down his face again as he ran his hand over the photographs. By this time, he'd memorized every line, every groove in her face, the way she smiled when she had a great idea, the smile she gave Ron when he was being annoying, albeit amusing, and especially the smile she reserved just for him. Those were the smiles he loved best, and flipped to the back of the book where he held the picture's he himself had taken. They were a bit fuzzy and out of focus; he didn't have the camera abilities Colin had, but in every one of them was that smile, the one just for him. The clock chimed one o'clock, two o'clock, and three o'clock. Finally, near four in the morning, he closed the albums and placed them back in his bookshelf. He wearily picked himself up and went off to bed, falling into a restless sleep filled with Hermione and his dreams of three years previous. He woke up half-an-hour later, with the rain pounding on the ceiling, and Crooks hanks purring at the end of his bed. He glanced on his bedside table, where he kept his favorite picture of her; it was a candid shot of her reading, curled up in her chair in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. He could tell the exact moment he told her to look up; she did, and flashed that amazing smile before going back to reading again.

At around five in the morning, he got up and went downstairs to make coffee, a pot strong enough to wake the dead. That was the only thing keeping him alive anymore—dreams and caffeine. He'd stopped seeing Ron or Ginny or any of his friends besides Neville, his assistant, six months ago. It was too painful. He'd heard Ron had gotten married, and Luna was expecting. Ginny was involved with Neville, and so he heard of her all the time through him. Other then that, his world was his apartment, his office, and those photo albums. When the coffee was ready, he poured a cup, and added two tablespoons of sugar, and clunked himself down in one of the kitchen chairs. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. He jumped about a mile in the air. No one ever came to visit him. In fact, he generally forbade it. The neighborhood children were terrified of him, as was the rest of the community. Bleary eyes and bemused, he opened the door.

It was Hermione, dripping from head to toe in rainwater and never looking so beautiful in her entire life. Harry stood there, too shocked to move; he was sure his nervous system had shut down. His jaw, he was sure, was down to the ground, and that he looked really stupid standing there in a t-shirt and boxers. He blinked. It had to be a dream. This wasn't real. Too many photo albums last night. It had to be. She couldn't be here, she was dead. Moody had said so.

"Hello, Harry," she said softly, gazing up at him and giving him that amazing smile reserved for him. He lost all semblance of control at that point. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he scooped her into a tight hug, willing this to be real, needing to feel that she was really here, and not some figment of his imagination. He buried his face in her neck, crying like he had the day she went missing. She stroked his hair and hushed him, hugging him tight around the shoulders. He couldn't quite tell where he ended and she began, but then again, he didn't really want to. He finally set her on her feet again, and invited her inside to the living room. He was beside himself. Tears were streaming down his face, and he wasn't really breathing, afraid that if he did, she'd disappear, and he'd never see her again.

"Harry, I'm—" she began, tears pouring down her face as well.

"They told me—they told me you were…"he was bawling, and he didn't want to say it. "They told me you were dead." He nearly broke down again. He kneeled down in front of her, resting his head on her knees and reaching up a hand to caress her cheek.

"I know," she said, stroking his hair. He'd never felt anything more comforting in his entire life. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry." Harry was confused.

"Sorry for what?" he said, wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I should have stayed behind like you wanted me to," she was sobbing by now, and it tore his heart to pieces. "I shouldn't have tried to fight….I was just…I couldn't stand it….you were probably about to be killed…and Harry, I'm so sorry." Harry was angry with himself by this time. How could he have allowed her to do this? Why didn't he search for her? Why didn't he take Moody at his word that she was just missing, and not actually dead? He gathered her in his arms once more, planting small kisses on the top of her head, and trying to reassure her that it wasn't her fault. Tears ran from his face into her hair, but he didn't care. Holding her in his arms was the only thing he'd wanted for the past three years.

She told him everything. She told him that she'd been captured, and allowed to be thought dead, hoping to take her as a prize, seeing as they didn't get The-Boy-Who-Lived's head on the wall as a trophy. She told him awful things that rivaled the Dursely's in cruelty and oddness. His sobs could be audible at the end of her story. It tore at the very heart of who he was. He'd never meant for her to get hurt. Her of all people. He'd wanted her safe; he thought she was safe. And then….she was taken. But none of that mattered anymore. She was here now, and that was all that mattered.

"Hermione, there's something I should have told you three years ago," he whispered in her ear. "Before I went to battle….I love you." A small gasp could be heard and Hermione swiveled from where she was in his arms and turned to look at him.

"What?" she asked softly, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. She wiped at them hastily, awaiting his answer.

"I love you," he said, wiping the tears away himself. He just couldn't believe it. Two hours ago…he thought she was dead….and now she was here. It was blowing him away.

"Do you really mean that?" she asked him, touching his hand that was on her cheek. He looked at her like she was the silliest person in the entire world.

"Of course I do. I have for a long time. These last three years have been torture for me. Ask Ron. I was lost with you gone," he leaned forward and rested his forehead on hers, looking into her beautiful eyes. _Please love me too,_ he thought. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Harry, there's something I should have told you, too," she whispered loud enough so that he could barely hear her. "I love you." Harry's heart soared. She had just made him the happiest man on earth. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her, again and again. The past three years were now a distant memory, even the previous night of album-worshipping was gone.

"I love you so much," he said, between kisses. "I'm so glad you're back."

"I love you too," she said. "I promise, I won't ever leave again." Harry smiled.

"Good," he let go of her for just a moment to reach into the drawer in the end table next to the couch. He pulled out a rather grubby gray box. Hagrid had graciously returned it to him a few days after his outburst, and it had lain there, forgotten, all these years. He brushed it off and opened it.

"Hermione, there is nothing more in the world I want then for you to be next to me, forever. I know we just discovered our feelings, and we haven't seen each other in three years, but I can't stand it anymore. I want you as my wife. Will you marry me?" he held the box out to her, who looked up at him, fresh tears threatening to spill. She weakly nodded her head, and Harry slipped the ring on her finger.

"Thank you," he said, kissing her deeply. "You just made me the happiest I've been in three years." She smiled, and kissed him back.

Lyrics to _A Night to Remember_ by Joe Diffie:

Been one tough week, dead on my feet  
But, I've got plans for tonight  
When I'm feeling blue, know just what to do  
And how to make it right  
Seems like I've needed this forever  
Gonna have myself a night to remember

Dim the lights, lock the door, spread your pictures  
On the floor, throw the dust off of our past let it  
All come floodin' back, cause' it ain't easy being  
Strong and when I can't forget your gone I just  
Surrender, and have myself a night to remember.

Sad ain't my style but once in a while  
I just have to give in  
'Cause a woman like you, is so hard to lose  
You just don't want it to end  
I know this can't go on forever  
So tonight I'll have a night to remember

Dim the lights, lock the door, spread your pictures  
On the floor, throw the dust off of our past let it  
All come floodin' back, cause' it ain't easy being   
Strong and when I can't forget you're gone I just  
Surrender, and have myself a night to remember.

Oh it ain't easy being strong and when I can't  
Forget you're gone I'll just surrender and have  
myself a night to remember


End file.
